To Know or Not To Know
by SpaghettiGirl
Summary: Countdown. -For omg-KITTENS-


_**iii. Not to Know**_

The first time he insults her, they are fourteen. She doesn't even realize who she is staring at, at first.

He is wearing a brown hoodie with jeans.

He gives her a look. She does not know how to describe his facial expression- it is a mix between _whossat_ and _areyoukiddingme_. She immediately dubs him a lower life form.

She puts on a fake haughty look. "Hello," she speaks slowly deliberately, just to make him believe she thought he was dumb. "My name is Cora. Cora Cahill."

He seems taken back for a second and she has a smirk on her face before he can collect himself. "Yeah, dude. I know."

"I," she still spoke to him as if he were three, "am not a 'dude'. Do you understand?"

He glares at her, irritated. "Whatever dude."

"I said that I-"

"How _old_are you?" he interrupts her.

It is her turn to glare. "I'm fourteen," she snaps, completely forgetting her former form of speech.

"Oh," he says. He looks down at his feet.

"How old did you think I was?"

"...Twelve."

The next second he is on the ground, knocked out cold.

When he comes to, she has already figured out who he is. Broderick Wizard. _The_Broderick Wizard, famous for his several albums.

And she had punched him in the face and given him a nosebleed. Already.

She mentally slapped herself. _Be careful of who you knock out._

"Um," she says awkwardly, sitting by his bedside. "Sorry."

He stares at her uncomprehendingly and for a second, she believes that she got lucky and he has forgotten everything. But then realization dawns on his face and he gives her one of his practiced scowls.

"First time meeting a star and you pretty much kill him. Charming."

She tries to be civilized, but fails utterly. "You're not the first famous person I've met." She grits her teeth and manages to prevent herself from growling.

"Ricky!" a high pitched female voice squeaks before he can respond. "Ricky, what happened?" A tall, pale and skinny figure barrels her way into the room and to Broderick's side. Cora smartly assumes this is his mom. "Oh honey! Who did this to you? Who gave you that awful nose-bleed? Just tell Mummy and we'll sue them!" She fuses with Broderick, smoothing down his hair and rubbing his hand in reassurance.

Cora freezes. Her family is not the richest people on the planet. They could barely afford their apartment rent.

Broderick looks at her but she refuses to meet his eyes. A smug smile plays on his lips and just as he is about to speak-

-her eyes flash up to meet his and they are furious.

Broderick stares at her for the longest while. He seems to be making a decision. He opens his mouth once again, and she is sure he'll sell her out.

He gently pries himself from his mother's grip. "No one, mom. I tripped and fell, face first."

Shock. She makes a sound equivalent to a blow fish before logic comes back and she realizes he's giving her a get-out-of-jail-free card. She doesn't stop to think about what she is doing. She quickly stands up and hugs him for the shortest second. "Hope you get better," and she is out the door.

His mother stares at him, astonished. "I hadn't even noticed that girl! Who was she?"

He shrugs. "Says her name is Cora Cahill ."

"Oh! She's that famous child potter, isn't she?" His mom nods approvingly. "Now if you got married someone like her, then I wouldn't worry."

Broderick starts laughing so hard, he chokes on his saliva. "Oh, no Mom," he snorts. "You'd have a lot more to worry about."

Cora doesn't know he let her go because of the panic and fear he saw in her eyes.

Broderick doesn't know why she hugged him.

Neither of them knew they were to see each other again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>ii. Or<strong>_

By the time they are seventeen, Broderick is already at the peak of the stars chart. He is known almost worldwide. Cora has established a decent reputation as a master potter and every artist bows down to her. Both their personalities are more relaxed now.

It is a coincidence when they meet.

"Hey," he flashes her a blinding white smile and sticks his hand out. "I'm Broderick Wizard. Great to meet you."

Her jaw drops. She looks at him and then at his hand. Him, hand, him, hand. Back and forth.

His grin does not waver and neither does his hand. He has that effect on girls, he knows. He pities them, really. They could not speak much and were more or less paralyzed in front of him.

Faintly, she takes his hand. "I- um- I'm Cora. Cora Cahill. Remember me?"

His first thought is that she is one of his more crazed fans, the ones who pretend to have met him. Not the first time it had happened to him. He eyes her wearily. Though the ones he met were seemingly harmless, they had very nearly torn him into bits. Best to get out of here, ASAP.

She turns rigid, as if she can read his thoughts. She withdraws her hand. "Huh. You don't remember me. That's probably for the best." Suddenly, like ice cracking, she smiles, like she is sharing an inside joke with herself.

He is so surprised, he decides to stick around a little longer. "Really? When did we meet? What happened?"

Her grin slowly fades away and he immediately regrets asking. He almost apologizes and asks her to put it back on her face. Because, even if she is crazy, she _is_kind of cute.

"You're going to get mad."

He blinks. Why would he get mad on their first meeting? "Go on."

"We were fourteen."

Ah. That typical, cliché story. A nutty girl (pretty or not) is a nutty girl after all.

And now she says we fall in love at-

"You insulted me and I punched you. You, erm, kind of fainted. I think I may have given you a concussion."

-well.

That's new.

He thinks back to three years ago, when he was still only known to his country. He had gotten a concussion, that he knew. But how-?

Oh. Right. He had said she looked twelve when she was actually fourteen.

He could not really blame her for slogging him like that. They were young and temperamental and an age insult could really hit a nerve.

She is looking at the ground. "That was so long ago but I feel really bad."

"Um-" he does not know what to do. He has never had to comfort a girl before. "Hey," he says awkwardly, "it's alright. We were, uh, fourteen at that time. We're seventeen now. No harm done, right?"

She looks up at him, smiling a little. "I don't look that young anymore, do I?"

A mischievous glimmer snakes up his face. "Naw," he says. "You look like an old hag now."

Which is how he earns a half-hearted punch.

But she isn't upset because she knows he is just joking.

...She thinks.

* * *

><p><em><strong>i. To Know<strong>_

He is gulping nervously.

She wonders if he really wants to do this, or if he is only going along with it because she and everyone they know wants him to.

He gets down on one knee, facing her. She swears his eyes are bulging and just when she is about to tell him that he doesn't have to, he really doesn't-

He takes her hand. He opens his mouth. And-

they jump.

She is shrieking at the top of her lungs, half cursing at him, half laughing. "IDIOT I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS AND NOW-"

"-EPIC! THIS IS EEEEPIC!"

He is too busy fumbling with the right words to pay any attention to her mood swings.

"Um," he shouts over the wind around them. "Cora-"

"PULL OUT YOUR PARACHUTE, STUPID!" she bellows in his ear, her voice superior to the winds.

He obliges.

"Cora," he tries again when things have somewhat settled down. "Would you- Do you-"

She isn't paying much attention to him. She is drinking up the scenery around them, wishing she had eyes in the back of her head. "What is it?"

"Well-"

"Spit it out, will you?" she says impatiently.

"WILL YOU, DUDE, MARRY ME?"

That gets her attention.

"_Pardon?_"

He repeats it.

She stares. "Uh-"

"Just think about it," he says almost desperately. "Sleep on it for a couple of days. Weeks. Months. Whatever. Whenever you're ready."

She makes a face at him. "Ricky, you're so dense. I can't believe you finally gathered the courage to ask me while skydiving. You were practically puking on the plane."

He shrugs, too nervous to be miffed by her words. "Come on. We've known each other for awhile. Don't you think-"

She sighs. "Why do you keep talking? You called me a twelve-year-old when we were fourteen. Then when we were seventeen, you call me an old hag." She looks at him.

He gazes back. "Like I said, take your time. Just don't give me a blunt 'no' right away-"

"Yes," she interrupts. "Because who else could control you?"

"...What?" He is astonished.

"I said yes, Ricky."

And they hit the water.

She knows why he was really nervous on the plane.

He knows he asked the right person.

They both know they'll be giving each other a hard time.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: For omg-KITTENS. Thanks for writing an awesome story for the Hope/Arthur cause! :D If you haven't read it, go now and review! It's called _Of Kittens, Carts and Bowties_.**

**I shall haunt you if you don't.**

**But no pressure. :P**

**~SG^^**


End file.
